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<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/22903426">Forget Me Not</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/asphyxeno/pseuds/asphyxeno'>asphyxeno</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>Wiedźmin | The Witcher - All Media Types, Wiedźmin | The Witcher Series - Andrzej Sapkowski</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>A Little Dedication, And Essi Sings With Him, Gen, I cried the whole time I wrote this, Jaskier | Dandelion Sings, Minor Character Death</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>Completed</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2020-02-26</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2020-02-26</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-01 13:15:25</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>Teen And Up Audiences</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>No Archive Warnings Apply</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>1</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>1,640</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/22903426</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/asphyxeno/pseuds/asphyxeno</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>
  <em>It had taken a great deal of bribery to get into Vizima in the middle of an epidemic. And it had taken a great deal more to get back out with a victim of smallpox in tow.</em>
</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Relationships:</b></td><td>Essi Daven &amp; Jaskier | Dandelion</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Comments:</b></td><td>6</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>33</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>Forget Me Not</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
      <p>Based on the paragraph about Essi's death at the end of 'A Little Sacrifice'.</p>
    </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>It had taken a great deal of bribery to get into Vizima in the middle of an epidemic. And it had taken a great deal more to get back out with a victim of smallpox in tow.</p><p>"It will be alright, Poppet." The lie was more for his sake than for hers. She had long since accepted that it would not, in fact, be alright.</p><p>"You know I hate it when you call me that." Of course she didn't mean it. She never did.</p><p>Essi Daven was dying. They both knew, but Dandelion could not stand by and allow her memory, her body, her <em>life</em> be reduced to cinders. So he'd paid his way, all that he had, to smuggle her out of the quarantine, both his lute and hers strapped across his back, the only things either of them owned. He'd had to fight with a guard to keep him from taking her one treasure, a blue pearl which she wore around her neck.</p><p>Behind them, the rising smoke of funeral pyres from the city darkened the sky, black and stinking of the bodies they'd burned, victims of the disease being disposed of as though their deaths had meant little more than a plague on the living.</p><p>Dandelion fled into the forest, the bard known as Little-Eye gathered in his arms, too weak to stand, let alone walk on her own. He didn't acknowledge how little she weighed or how the illness had blemished her pretty features. At least her beautiful eyes remained, as ever, shining and starry even so near to death's door.</p><p>"I'm here with you, Poppet, you know that, right? I'm here," said Dandelion, breathless at the exertion of containing all that he felt. Running seemed to take no energy at all in comparison.</p><p>"I know," Essi smiled weakly, serene and at peace in his presence for her final moments. "Thank you, Dandelion."</p><p>To Dandelion, Essi Daven had been like a little sister, the only real family he'd ever known, possibly closer to him than anyone else could claim. And now cruel fate had decided to take that last semblance of family he had and wrench it away. He'd been so <em>proud</em> of her. Her career, her ballads, her whole life. He'd be damned if he was going to watch it all go up in smoke.</p><p>Dandelion nearly tripped on a tree root in his haste to get as far into the forest as possible. Somewhere isolated, calm. Somewhere they wouldn't be disturbed or unearthed. The thought of graves robbers kept him fleeing deeper into the woods.</p><p>Eventually he came to a small clearing, where he stopped, finally, to catch his breath. He had a decision to make. To keep going or to let here be where Essi's life ended.</p><p>"Anywhere is fine," soothed Essi. She was happy enough that Dandelion had brought her out of the city.</p><p>"No, no it's not," Dandelion's voice broke. "<em>Nowhere</em> is fine." He was afraid she might die on the spot the second he put her down. She very well might have, with how weak she was.</p><p>He searched the clearing and saw the ground gently rising. A hill. That would be better. Higher ground, and a hill surrounded by trees and wildlife. He headed in that direction.</p><p>"How can you be so okay with this?" Dandelion asked. How could she be so calm?</p><p>"I haven't much choice," she said and for a moment, Dandelion saw that defining fire in those gorgeous eyes that he'd feared might have long since been extinguished. Then she closed her eyes again, exhausted from just fighting that much longer.</p><p>"Almost there. Stay with me, Poppet."</p><p>He trekked the short distance up through a dense section of woods. Branches broke against him, scraping skin and ripping the fine fabrics both he and Essi wore. He didn't feel it, any of it. Neither did Essi. She seemed beyond pain now.</p><p>When he finally burst through the trees, at the top of the hill, he was glad he'd chosen to go just that little bit further.</p><p>A single tree sat at the top, towering over the rest that surrounded it. Its trunk was surrounded by lush flowers, a sea of colors nearly encasing it. Purple lavender, yellow buttercups, blue scorpion grasses. Wildflowers of every sort greeted them invitingly.</p><p>Dandelion brought Essi Daven over to the tree, wading through the flowers. This time he did stumble, and he just managed to catch himself on his knee, pressing Essi protectively close. Carefully, he lowered her to the ground, flowers bending and swaying in her wake, surrounding her with their beauty. No flower could outmatch hers, he thought, even with the smallpox.</p><p>"Look, Poppet." he said. "It's as if they were planted just for you." Dandelion gently stroked Little-Eye's face, prompting her back to the living, even if only for a little longer. He couldn't let her go without seeing such a beautiful sight. Desperately, he pleaded, "Essi? Please, don't leave me just yet."</p><p>Essi's eyes fluttered open, unfocused but bright. Sunlight filtered down between the leaves, making it difficult to see. After a moment of staring, her vision adjusted and she smiled at Dandelion. "You called me Essi," she said.</p><p>Dandelion smiled back for her, broken, but it was genuine. Not many got to see it. "I won't make a habit of it." He sighed with relief, though he knew it was in vain. The next time she closed her eyes would be her last.</p><p>"These woods are so quiet." she sighed. "Sing to me, Dandelion? It's such a nice day for it."</p><p>There was no way he could have ever told her 'no'. "What shall I sing?" he asked. "One of yours? Or one of mine?"</p><p>"Anything. I know them all by heart."</p><p>Of course she did. He'd never been able to say it out loud, but she'd always been the better bard. She always would be.</p><p>Dandelion took a few shaky breaths, his voice only staying steady because of years of practice. And as requested, he sang,</p><p>
  <em>I can hear the cannons calling<br/>
As though across a dream,<br/>
And I can smell the smoke of hell<br/>
In every stitch and seam.<br/>
And like flowers, the bodies tumble<br/>
Around this muddied lot.<br/>
I cannot hear them scream<br/>
‘Forget me not.’</em>
</p><p>It was a song he knew she loved. One they had written together, ages ago. It called for no instruments, relying solely on their haunting voices to carry emotion through. Now Dandelion wished they could have written more. If only they'd had more time. His entire chest ached knowing full well that he'd never hear another song from her again. No more poems, no more ballads. No more collections with sales and fans which rivaled his own. Never again would he hear her perform, or perform alongside her. And perhaps that was the most painful thing of all.</p><p>Then Essi shifted in his arms, lips moving along with the words of the song for the next verse and his chest felt impossibly tighter as she quietly sang along.</p><p>
  <em>Your voice it carries over<br/>
The hubbub and the hum,<br/>
And it paints the sky and circles high<br/>
Like the beating of a drum.<br/>
You will scream, ‘I won’t forget you’<br/>
But I’ll cover my cold ears.<br/>
It cannot be a lie<br/>
If no-one hears.</em>
</p><p>Dandelion took up one of her hands in both of his. He realized his own were shaking. Essi squeezed them to reassure him. He hated that he needed reassuring when she was the one who was dying. It should be him comforting her in her last moments, yet here she was, strong for his sake, comforting when he needed it. It had always been that way with them, it seemed. He had viewed her as his little sister, yet it had been her who was always there for him.</p><p>He choked back a sob and his voice strained with every lyric he sang.</p><p>
  <em>'Cause although you say good day to me<br/>
I know I don’t belong.<br/>
And although you hold my hand and say<br/>
‘I love you’, you are wrong,<br/>
Because love does not exist here<br/>
In this garden there’s no feeling,<br/>
And you say the words so often<br/>
That I barely know the meaning.<br/>
And when all the flowers are rotten,<br/>
And all the cannons shot,<br/>
I’ll scream, but you won’t hear<br/>
‘Forget me not’.</em>
</p><p>Essi's voice was weakening, as was her grip on Dandelion's hand. He held her gently, there in the grass and flowers, and tears slipped down his face as they sang together. She never had seen him cry before, very few people ever did, and she smiled to try and cheer him. He only wept harder. Still she did not look away, wanting to see. His company and the flowers and forest around them were too pleasant not to miss for even a moment. Unfortunately, a moment was all that she had.</p><p>By the end of the song she would be gone.</p><p>
  <em>And in years to come you’ll wander<br/>
To the place up on our hill<br/>
And then you’ll cry to our painted sky<br/>
‘I loved him then, I love him still’.<br/>
And you’ll strew some sage and lilies,<br/>
And roses where I rot.<br/>
Of all the flowers you picked,<br/>
I knew you would forget<br/>
Forget-me-nots.</em>
</p><p>Dandelion's voice once more rang out, broken and alone. He reached over to Essi's face, openly weeping now himself, and closed her wide, bright eyes, now dulled-over by the absence of life. Little-Eye and her beautiful gaze would see nothing else, ever again.</p><p>And although he was wrought with grief and wracked with unfounded feelings of guilt, Dandelion swallowed everything he felt just long enough to bury Essi Daven, with her lute and her azure pearl, in the forest just as she had wished.</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>i found out joey batey is in a band and after crying while listening to their music i rushed here to write this</p><p>the song is 'Elsa's Song' by The Amazing Devil. please listen to them and support them.</p></blockquote></div></div>
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